Destined For More
by Tathiela
Summary: Phantom of the Opera story, obviously. My first, and just a short test chapter to see if anyone is interested. Phantom after the mob invades his home.
1. Chapter 1

So, I decided I needed to write a Phantom er.."phanfic". I've never done one before, so please show mercy to me if it sucks. Let me know if I should continue as well please.

I don't own Phantom of the Opera. If you like the story, then I'm sure you know who does. Just so you know who to picture, this is based on Gerard Butler's Phantom, not the creepy fellow in that ancient(20's?) movie! I really need to read the book however so I know when I'm writing something that didn't happen, or would not happen. /embarassed smile/ Anyway, please. Let me know your thoughts, and enjoy! Or not. /nervous chuckle/

By the way, this is just a short chapter, what one might call an introduction of sorts.

The Pain Below

It pained Erik greatly as from a hidden passage way the only home he had ever truly known it was torn apart, and ravaged by the angry mob.

The pain he endured this night at the loss of the only other soul he had ever loved was not enough he supposed to make up for the pain he no doubt caused to many others who were there to witness the horror of his accursed face.

Karma was indeed unkind to him. The tears were still fresh upon his unmasked face as he stood there silently in the shadowed passage. Never before had he endured such great pain, not even at his own mothers rejection, and denial of him.

He truly must be the devils child he thought to himself, to warrant the rejection of the only soul in the world who should have loved him unconditionally. All feared to look upon him until even he feared to be seen by others.

A mirror hid him from the crazed mob who had only moments before hung the only friend he had ever known through his long lonely years. Ayisha: his Siamese cat; with a lasso created by his own two hands, proclaiming her a spawn of the devil.

Fresh tears began anew for the loss of another, a dear friend, a loved one.

He has no sense of how long he remained hidden away from the mob, but when finally he emerged his home lay in ruins. First he sadly made his way through the rubble of his few possessions to the lifeless feline.

Still hung from his noose, her eyes open, the expression of terror she must have felt at the hands of the cruel mob frozen there in her eyes. Loosening the noose, he took her gently into his arms, releasing all the emotion he felt into her now cold fur.

He cried a heartfelt apology to her for not remembering her presence in the lair, having been so wrapped up in his own heartache as he fled. Also for not rescuing her, he knew it would have proven fruitless, and both would have died, but still he felt immeasurable guilt for having not tried.

No longer able to bear the sight of her normally clear blue eyes, now foggy, dimmed forever, glazed over by the cruel icy grip of death he placed her body on a scrap of wood from a broken and splintered table, he had carved himself years before.

He then retrieved a broken, half spilled bottle of his finest wine from an overturned cabinet nearby. This he poured over the still body of his dear friend, and setting the wood on the still cold water, he set fire to her. A funeral tradition he had observed in his life's travels.

He turned silently from the flames, tears falling freely down his cheeks. The remainder of his night was spent surveying the damage to his belongings. Little was salvageable save his beloved organ, and the swan bed that had been Christine's. 

They had even destroyed his deep rich brown colored coffin. Had they no pity? Could they not have left him that one small thing, could they have not left him his final resting place?

Now it would have to be her bed, for surely he would need one. He knew that he would die, die of love, love for her.

His heart ached within his chest, an ache like he had never before had the misfortune to feel. It was stifling, choking for him. He had to force himself to breath often as he lay there, still and silent on the crumpled sheets of a bed she had often slept in, wishing for nothing but death to come swiftly.

"Please." He cried into the darkness around him, his normally heavenly voice but a choked whisper of his emotion now.

But death would not come, not then. Whatever deity holds sway over the world, over our lives refused to take pity on this broken soul. He was destined for more.


	2. Chapter 2

Well, I present you with chapter two. It was a bit difficult to get through as I have to truly be inspired to write to my liking, but I got through it! I just watched Phantom over, and over, and over. Hehehe..Anyway, I don't own Erik, or any characters you might recognize from any book published. I would however like a punjab lasso, and cape. Oh how I would like a cape. I really need a sewing machine so I can make one! Anyone know of any good cape patterns?

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Chapter 2 – A Terribly Beautiful Dream

Long hours spent in misery soon faded in Erik's mind, becoming only numbness, and distant shadows seemingly long forgotten. He rose from his resting place only when need dictated.

Music, art, love, all things that he once found joy in became too painful to pursue. One particularly dark afternoon found Erik smashing the keys of his organ in anger, and frustration. Music no longer set his darkened soul free.

No longer was he inspired, and no longer could he bear the sight of the memories that filled his heart with only a glance at some object in his home.

Her voice often echoed in his weary mind, sending sharp pains throughout his entire being. Her eyes when upon entering the room that was hers in his home had looked upon him in such sadness, and despair were often before his very eyes.

Her beauty, her voice, her heart, all things that he missed dearly, and all were things that had never been his, never been his destiny. She belonged to another, her heart belonged to another.

Though he always thought that some part of her would always be with him, her eyes that final time had told him so. When she handed him the ring, he had seen it there. That look that told him a part of her did indeed love him.

But she was a creature of light, of beauty. How could he, a ghost, a phantom of the night, and one so very ugly ever have hoped to win her love? She needed the daylight, she needed a soul that was so very like her own. Light, joyful.

She needed joy, and all he could bring her was despair, and fear. His music had inspired her, had lifted her soul, but that had not been enough. His entire being, his very soul laid before her feet had not been enough. She had chosen another, left him to his despair, and there he lay in it.

Days soon faded into months where mere hours seems to him years. Never did he go above, nor did he dare to enter the tunnels of the underground labyrinth fearing by some small chance he was still being hunted by the mob.

Though none ever came, he still felt as though a presence, some life haunted the charred remains of his once great opera house above. Confusing as it was for him, he though he sensed a sadness from the presence above, pity perhaps, and also a burning curiosity.

Someone explored the remains of his destroyed creation. Most days he was content to ignore the odd sensation, liking it to simple madness from his long period of solitude, and despair.

Several times however he found himself standing at the entrance to the labyrinth that led to the opera house above, not recalling having walked there.

His logic told him that the opera house was his to protect now, and that he should ward off trespassers, and gawking fools. But then he would remember, sadly pulling himself away and telling himself that there was nothing remaining to protect, he had destroyed it all.

If someone was interested in an old burned opera house, then he decided he would not begrudge them that curiosity.

"Angel? My tortured Angel?" A voice called out in the darkness, voice echoing off the hard, cold walls of his home.

"Angel, I have come to leaf you to the light," It began again.

Erik turned to see the voice but was blinded by a startling white light.

"come to save you from your solitude. Will you follow?" The voice asked.

Erik swallowed with difficulty, and drew nearer to the light trying but failing to see the heart of it.

"Am I dead?" He asked the light with a voice he now thought so familiar, so warm.

The light seemed to giggle but it was at once horrible, and heavenly to hear as realization struck him. The voice belonged to none other than his own Angel.

"Christine?" He questioned, his voice strained while he trembled slightly.

The light then diminished to reveal Christine in a flowing white dress that sparkled as though some light shone upon it from the darkness around them. The dress seemed as though it floated on air as with a smile on her face she drew nearer to him. She placed a hand on the unmasked side of his face when she stood before him.

"None can fool my Angel. I was foolish to think I could. Forgive me." She whispered soothingly.

Tears flowed down his cheeks, and froze as slipped from his face, then shattered as they hit the hard ground.

"Do not weep my beloved Angel." Christine consoled.

"I have never truly left you." With her other hand she reached slowly up to trace the outline of his mask.

"Soon my Angel, you will hide no more." She then removed his mask, and smiled.

"So beautiful." She murmured quietly as she placed warm sweet kisses there on his deformed side.

Erik trembled terribly as he stood before her, feeling vulnerable and afraid.

"Will you follow Erik?" She questioned once more, shocking him with the knowledge she knew his name.

Shakily he removed the hand she held on his cheek, and laid it over his heart, and slipped his hand gently into her other, entwining their fingers.

"Lead me Christine." He choked out, his voice strangled by emotion.

She smiled then, and it took his very breath away, never before had he seen such genuine happiness from her.

"Then waken my Angel of music, for your destiny awaits you above. Face it bravely, go once more into the light." The light again grew, became so brilliant that he was forced to turn away from it.

Erik jumped, springing from the cold bed with a start. He cast his gaze swiftly across the darkened lair. The candles long since burned out, leaving him to the darkness. Nothing, he saw nothing. No light, no Christine. Only solitude, his one companion for so long now. "Christine" he cried, slumping to the floor his shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

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Olivia N. Thank you for reviewing my story. I'll try to behave as far as the horrid run on sentances. But I was also chastised once for having too short of sentances. sigh . I just can't win:)

AngelicFlutist Thank you for reviewing as well. I'm afraid I've not read Phantom by Susan Kay yet. I just like the idea of our dear Erik having a kitty kat. He'll be finding another soon, cause I just adore the idea!


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